


The Sun Crown

by MistressKat



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Beltane, F/F, Ficlet, Flowers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:33:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23990122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistressKat/pseuds/MistressKat
Summary: Willow comes home to a meadow, a rolling hillside and the edge of the forest. She comes home to a wild, reckless bravery of spring that has wrapped its way around her house.
Relationships: Tara Maclay/Willow Rosenberg
Comments: 6
Kudos: 10





	The Sun Crown

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pushkin666](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pushkin666/gifts).



> For pushkin666's prompt of 'Beltane flowers'

Willow comes home to garden. 

No, that’s not right. ‘Garden’ is too tame a word for this. 

Willow comes home to a meadow, a rolling hillside and the edge of the forest. She comes home to a wild, reckless bravery of spring that has wrapped its way around her house. There are primroses around the doorways and windowpanes, hawthorn branches with colourful ribbons tied to them standing in vases, swathes of marigold covering every remaining surface, like little gold coins tossed by a generous hand. 

She gasps in surprise and delight and the scent winds its way inside her, subtle and intoxicating. Willow knows an enchantment when it tugs at hear heart, but she knows the enchantress too so she allows herself to be led. 

Deeper and deeper into the house she walks, fingertips trailing over petals while underneath her feet the carpet slowly transforms into tall grass, dandelions and buttercups dragging over her ankles, legs, thighs. 

The bedroom door is gone, sunshine streaming through, warm and inviting. Willow steps into the sun-dappled woods, green and golden and filled with birdsong. 

By the birch trees, Tara is waiting. On her heard is a crown of yarrow and goldenrod, her long hair cascading down like a cloak over her shoulders and back. She holds out both palms, a flame dancing over each, bright and pure. 

Willow reaches out and takes her hands, feeling last of the winter burn clean away. 


End file.
